


Uncommon Thief

by ChrysCare



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrysCare/pseuds/ChrysCare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Searece's and InMoNochrome's Theif and b-day gift fic. </p><p>Jazz gets an unexpected visitor one orn at his shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncommon Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Searece](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Thief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3393371) by [InMoNochrome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InMoNochrome/pseuds/InMoNochrome), [Searece](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/Searece). 



The starlight shines through the stained glass of the bay window of the quaint little shop on the main street of Praxus. Crystals in various shapes, sizes and facets glitter in the window, humming to an unknown tune, small chimes play their symphony over helm as they hang from the vaulted ceiling under the vents. Hence the name of this quaint shop: Crystal and Chime.

The small shop’s owner gracefully dances in with a box in his arms filled to the top of the latest crystal carved figurines. He sets it on the counter before turning back and grabbing another box out of the back room.

Humming to the symphony playing around him, he sways his hips, taps his pedes and smiles as he empties out the crystal figurines. Each crystal seems to glow in his black servo, coming to one, a black and white swan, he sets it aside, maybe his friend and decaornly customer would like it. The chime on the door comes and every crystal in the shop echoes it on various frequencies.

“Sorry, still closed, ya can wait a klik,” Jazz calls out over his shoulder without looking back. He smiles to himself, sometimes customers were so eager to get browsing. The real reason he left the door unlocked was for his bonded to come in before his shift. A servo comes over his mouth, a strong arm wraps around his waist pining him to his attacker. Squirming against the mech, he tries to get out of the stronger mech’s hold until he feels something like a blaster press against his back.

“Hey, let me go,” Jazz tries saying but it becomes a mumbled mess as the mech’s servo covers his mouth. “I’m gonna call the Enforcers.”

“Go ahead, but they won’t help you,” the mech whispers in his audio. Jazz squirms more, afraid of what the other mech means before his spark catches up to his processor and he realizes who the voice belongs to.

“Not funny, Prowler,” Jazz huffs and stops squirming. The Praxian behind him laughs, pressing a quick kiss to his helm. He turns, servos sliding up the taller mech’s chest. The blaster, he felt, is just his data-pad of the shop’s inventory he forgot on the table. “Ya almost gave me a spark attack.”

“Perhaps you should lock your door until you open,” Prowl leans down, pressing his chevron against his forehelm. The other mech moves away to lean on the counter. He glares at the black and white Praxian before continuing to set up before the store opens in a few kliks.

“Maybe I knew you always come here before your shift,” Jazz dances around the displays, every so often glancing at Prowl to see the other mech watching him. He smiles lightly as the small flutter in his spark grows.

“There may come a time when a thief comes into the shop,” he glances up to see the Praxian frowning. He steps up to the other mech, Prowl cups his face. “You gave me a key code for a reason. I can use it.”

“Fine, maybe next orn,” he rolls his optics behind his visor. He quickly pecks a kiss to Prowl’s frown before hopping away.

“So what did the medic say about your spark pain?” he jumps slightly, completely forgetting about stopping into the medical center earlier this orn.

“Uh . . .” he starts, pretending that his display needs all his attention. Prowl stands and abruptly and starts towards the door.

“You’ll have to tell me when we get home,” Prowl says before walking out of the store. He sags where he stands, never more grateful for the chief of enforcers to call Prowl away. He calls the medical center to make an appointment to see a medic.

Turning back to look over his displays for a final time, he flips the sign to open. Some passing mechs come into his shop to look around; he smiles and greets each and every one of the mechs and femmes.

“Carrier, can I please have this, it’s so pretty,” he glances over to see a small sparkling cupping one of his crystal flower lilies as if it were the most precious Primus given gift. He casually walks over to them.

“We can’t afford this, it’s nice to look at every time we come here, but we just can’t,” the sparkling's Carrier kneels down to him.

“I think we could work something out,” Jazz smiles, the sparkling looks up hopeful to him and his Carrier. “How about . . . you answer two questions and you can have it?”

The sparkling looks up to his Carrier who nods. “I could try.”

“Okay, I’ll give you an easy one,” Jazz smiles, the sparkling nods still clutching the ruby red lily. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Red,” the sparkling smiles, turning in on himself shyly.

“Okay, the next one’s a little harder,” Jazz says, voice serious now. “What is your second favorite color?”

“Purple,” the sparkling smiles, Jazz touches the red lily and purple accents spread through the petals. He smiles when the sparkling “oohs” and “ahhs” at the flower.

“Now ya have ta promise me you’ll take care of this precious flower,” Jazz says smiling up at the sparkling’s Carrier.

“Thank you,” the mech smiles, Jazz picks up one of the Praxian Temple replicas, one he knows the mech has been looking at every time they come in.

“Why don’t ya take this since your sparkling’s so cute,” Jazz smiles setting the figurine in the mech’s servos.

“Thank you,” the mech smiles.

“No problem,” Jazz smiles and watches the two leave the shop. He looks over the other mechs in the shop. His smile never leaves his faceplates as he walks back to the counter to ring up some customers’ items.

As the orn goes on and customers come in and leave with bags of crystal figurines and chimes protectively wrapped in bubble wrap, Jazz feels his spark fluttering more and more. He frowns as he rubs his chest plates as it continues. He hesitantly highlights his assistant’s comm number. The mech was supposed to be on vacation but with this constant fluttering distracting him and his worry growing, he would understand.

:Hey, sorry mech, I know it’s your vacation . . . but-: Jazz says when the mech cuts him off.

:I’ll be right there, Jazz,: the mech says and Jazz sighs as he shuts off the comm. He owed his assistant one. Waiting a few pulses, the door chimes and his blue and white assistant walks in.

“Thanks Mirage, something’s seriously wrong with my spark,” Jazz rubs his chestplates as the fluttering intensifies.

“You should go to the medical center,” Mirage holds his shoulders as he sways a little. “Do I need to call anyone to help you there? I can get Hound to come and walk you to the center.”

“Nah, it’s just a couple blocks away, I think I’m good,” he smiles up at the noble.

“If you’re sure,” Mirage frowns and walks him to the door.

“Feel free to watch from the door,” Jazz smiles over his shoulder as starts walking down the block.

“I will,” Mirage calls to him. Jazz smiles to himself as he walks down the slightly busy sidewalk. His spark flutters again and he braces himself against the light pole. An enforcer cruiser slows and transforms, he groans a little as the Enforcer walks up to him. The four red optics dim as they lock onto him.

“Hey, Barricade,” Jazz smiles as he pushes himself off the pole. “Just going for a stroll, nothing wrong here.”

“Jazz, your spark rate is elevated, your vents are working harder and your core temperature is ten degrees higher than the average of your specific frame type,” Barricade says and takes his arm. “You are being escorted to the medical center where I will accompany you until you are released by a licensed medic.”

“Wow, brilliant detective skills there, ‘Cade, I was on my way,” Jazz smirks when the Enforcer, who happens to be his brother in spark frowns.

“Does Prowl know your condition?” Barricade asks.

“He . . . thinks I already went, don’t tell him,” Jazz frowns and leans against Barricade’s frame as his frame goes weak. His helm spins and his vision blurs.

“Jazz?” Barricade picks him up and he rubs his helm.

“Dizzy, maybe you should carry me the rest of the way?” he smiles as he holds his helm. Barricade rolls his optics but carries him to the medical center.

 

Barricade stands by the door as Jazz sits on the medical berth of the medical center room. The red and white medic flips through the data-pad with the results from the multitude of scans and tests. The medic glances up at him with a frown and glare directed right at him.

“If you weren’t escorted here by a Praxian enforcer and in your current condition, I would smack you upside the helm for being so stupid,” the medic grumbles and nearly stomps over to him. Barricade shifts a little closer to intercept. Ratchet hands him the data-pad with the results. In big glyphs at the end of the report reads “Carrying”.

“Say what?” Jazz’s jaw drops and he stares at the medic. Barricade moves to take the data-pad.

“No you don’t,” Ratchet grabs Barricade’s servos. “Haven’t you ever heard of medic-patient confidentiality?”

“Barricade, I’m good, you can go back to patrolling,” Jazz says waving the enforcer off as he continues to stare at the results.

“But-“

“Do I need to call security?” Ratchet asks, crossing his arms. Barricade grumbles and turns, slamming to door behind him. Jazz glances up at the medic.

“How can I . . .”

“Well, when two sparks join-“

Jazz launches the data-pad at the medic, “I know that part. I’m not stupid. I mean, how could it happen, we haven’t even talked about sparklings. I thought . . . I thought just plain merging without intent wouldn’t create a spark.”

“Did you want sparklings?” Ratchet asks. Jazz flinches but nods slightly. “Then there’s your answer, apparently your partner wanted sparklings as well.”

“He’s never said anything about it,” Jazz frowns and glances at the tiles of the floor.

 

Jazz sits on the chair behind the counter as Mirage cleans up the shop, dusting off the crystal figurines and straightening the shelves.

“I bet Prowl will be excited to hear about what the medic said,” Mirage smiles up at him. “At least you are not dying.”

“Yeah,” Jazz bites his bottom lip plate. Sirens fly past the shop and Mirage runs to the door to look out. Jazz peeks out the window as three Enforcers transform in front of the store down the street. He watches as Prowl directs the mechs passing by around the crime hologram. “Wonder what happened there?”

“I can go ask one of the Enforcers. Prowl’s there, I bet he would tell us.”

“We should stay in here, we don’t know what’s there,” Jazz says holding Mirage’s arm. Mirage glances down at him.

“Right, yeah, we should stay here,” Mirage locks the door and Jazz walks back to the counter to sit down. “Shouldn’t you be drinking the medical grade Energon?”

“Stuff tastes like slag,” Jazz frowns at the Energon in the cube. Which sits on the counter across the stores main room. 

“But it’s good for the sparklet,” Mirage smirks over his shoulder. Jazz glares at the noble before taking a small sip of the Energon. An Enforcer steps up to the door and Mirage quickly unlocks the door.

“We are going around asking the shop owners and workers in the area if they saw or heard anything around the tenth joor this orn,” the Enforcer looks to Mirage then to him.

“What happened?” Jazz asks when they tell the Enforcer they haven’t noticed anything unusual.

“A break in and robbery,” the Enforcer says before leaving. Mirage glances back at him. His servo comes to rest over his spark.

“Prowler warned me to keep my doors locked in the early orn, nothing about during regular business hours,” Jazz frowns as he holds the medical grade Energon cube closer. 

“Maybe I should come back until you have your sparkling,” Mirage says glancing back out to the commotion a few blocks down. Jazz smiles at his assistant’s worry and kindness towards him. It wasn’t like the noble needed the credits he got from here and he knows the noble has other business to do for his own duties. Speaking of which, where were the noble’s bodyguards? Surely they were within sight of him. He bites his bottom lip plate before asking, “don’t you have bodyguards or somethin’?”

“They don’t follow me here, Hound would know if something was harming me,” Mirage says. “This is still part of higher Praxus.”

 

Jazz stands from his seat behind the counter as the star starts setting behind his store and casting the street into a shadow. The crystal lotus street lamps glow and brighten as the star sets more. The lamp right outside his store casts a blue glow through his window making the crystal on that shelf glow with a blue aura. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright until Prowl comes?” Mirage asks, gold optics shine dimly as he holds the door. Jazz nods and shoos the noble out, locking the door behind his assistant. He glances out the window of the door to the street. The once busy street of the orn, holds only one passing mech a few pulses. He glances at the crystal encased in steel chronometer on the wall behind the counter. One joor until Prowl gets off from his shift. He presses the panel by the door and the metal shades slide down over the window, the store’s lights dim and the chimes quiet to only a whisper. 

He trails his digits over the marble counters as he walks into the back room. Boxes of crystal figurines sit on tables and unfinished projects lay on the work tables around the far corner of the room. The over helm light flickers slightly but the crystal lamps glow around the room at a steady glow. Picking up one of the unfinished lilieth figurines, he starts chiseling away at the hard outer shell of the crystal bulb. 

The sound of the lock turning grows with the combined whispers of the crystals in the main room and Jazz turns his helm to see a black and white doorwing slip into the room as Prowl locks the door back. Ice blue optics meet his silver ones as Prowl walks into the room and slides his white servos over his shoulders. 

“How was your orn?” Prowl whispers near his audio as his field brushes and mingles with his. 

“Good, I saw the Enforcers down the street, is everything alright?” Jazz glances up, pausing in his work with the lilieth and sliding his black servo over one of Prowl’s. 

“Some mech thought it would be a good idea to break into Fayle and Thyme,” Prowl sighs and slightly drapes his frame over Jazz’s smaller one. “That will be a pretty little bird. I see you finally sold the Praxian temple.”

“Not really sold it,” Jazz shrugs. “A mech who comes in here decaornly kept looking at it but he couldn’t afford it. I also gave his sparkling a little flower for the price of two questions.”

“That was nice of you,” Prowl murmurs pressing a light kiss to the back of his helm. “How late are you planning to stay to work?”

“Not long, I was just waiting for you, thought you’d rather be with me since,” Jazz waves toward the direction of Fayle and Thyme, “that happened.”

“Right, so what did you find out from the medical center?” Prowl asks as he stands and wraps his arms around him. Jazz bites his lipplate as Prowl rests his helm on his shoulder. 

“I’m not dyin’,” Jazz smiles, spark pulsing harder. How would Prowl take it learning that he was sparked? Obviously Prowl wanted a sparkling or he’d not be sparked. But was it just a want during their merging or a want now? “The medic gave me some medical grade to help my frame. He thinks it might be lack of metal additives.” Only a half lie.

 

Jazz onlines at a flutter in his spark, he frowns slightly before remembering the flutter is just the sparklet. He smiles as he rubs his servo over his chestplates. Prowl’s doorwings flick in his recharge and Jazz turns to face the Praxian. He smiles lightly as he watches his bondmate recharge. It isn’t often that he gets to see Prowl recharge. Prowl normally always onlines before him and gets ready for his orn joors before he ever onlines. He lightly trails his digit over Prowl’s slightly parted lipplates, the Praxian shifts a little in recharge. He trails his digit over the ruby red chevron, gaining a moan from the other. His smile grows as he scoots closer to reach for one of the doorwings, Prowl wraps his arms around his waist in recharge and Jazz presses a kiss to the shield of the Praxian’s chevron. The sparklet flutters happily as Prowl’s field automatically mingles with his. 

Trailing his digit over the plane of the doorwing, the doorwing stills in the light fluttering only to resume when he takes his servo away. He checks his chronometer and sees it’s joors before Prowl would online and frowns. Why was he up so early? The fluttering sparklet quiets, and he realizes that he was craving something. The thought quickly leaves without him figuring out what it was. He settles in Prowl’s hug, taking this rare time to cuddle with the Enforcer. Tucking his helm under the Enforcer’s chin his helm rest over the other’s pulsing spark. He smiles slightly as he listens to the others spark. The steady rhythm similar to his own since they are bondmates. 

 

Jazz onlines to Prowl slipping off the berth, he frowns a little as he watches the other mech walk into the washracks. He sits up on the edge of the berth before sliding off the berth and following Prowl into the warm washracks, the steam clouds his visor a little as he sneaks up on the Enforcer. The sparklet flutters by his spark as he steps closer to the other mech. He smiles to himself as he reaches out to touch one of the doorwings. The moment his digits touch the doorwing, Prowl’s field expands and mingles with his. 

“You are up early this orn,” Prowl turns to pull Jazz under the warm solvent. Jazz hums as he leans against Prowl’s larger frame. 

“Thought you might want to walk me to the store?” Jazz smiles as he looks up at his bondmate. 

“I only worry when you leave the door unlocked before you open,” Prowl frowns, white digit trailing down his faceplates. 

“I called Mirage back, so he can help with the store,” Jazz says trailing the transformation seams along Prowl’s chest. 

 

Jazz gathers his recently finished projects and heads out into the main room. Prowl sits on the floor in the sectioned off portion, optics offline and doorwings completely still on his back. Meditation, like every orn, Jazz smiles as he passes through the room and closes the door quietly. Grabbing the transport, he arrives moments later to the Crystal and Chime. Mirage walks up as he steps off the transport. 

“Have you told Prowl yet?” Mirage asks, Jazz frowns and shakes his helm. 

“I haven’t, I . . . don’t know how he’ll react,” Jazz frowns and holds his servo over his chestplates. “The last time we spoke of having sparklings he said he wasn’t ready for the added responsibility. But that was when the store was starting up and all.”

“I’m sure he’ll want sparklings,” Mirage smiles as he follows Jazz to the counter. Jazz shrugs and sets the box of projects on the counter. 

“Could you go into the back and get me one of the empty boxes?” Jazz asks Mirage who slips into the back room. Jazz hums as he lays out the figurines and trinkets. The door chimes and he frowns to himself. How could he not remember to lock the door? He glances at his chronometer, frown growing as it is too early for Prowl to get here before his shift. “Sorry mech, you’ll have to wait some more.”

“I am not a customer,” the mech says, voice low and Jazz’s spark skips a pulse, the sparklet pulses fearfully. Turning around, Jazz comes face to face with a red and black mech, the Praxian’s doorwings are jagged with deep scrapes along the panels. He internally winces, doorwings were sensitive and this mech’s had deeps scars on them. His optics finally focus on the gun the mech has and he backs into the counter.

“Uh . . . I’m sure we can work things out,” Jazz smiles, only half of his lipplates respond. 

“Hey, Jazz, I got . . .” Mirage drops the box as he walks into the room, the mech turn his gun to Mirage and grabs the smaller noble by the collar. 

“Give me all your credits and I might let your little mech here live,” the mech waves the gun at Jazz before pointing it to Mirage’s helm. “Tell me little mech, what’s a noble doing here working at this thrift shop.”

“I’ll get your credits, just, don’t hurt him,” Jazz says moving around the counter, the mech follows, pulling Mirage along with him. With shaky servos, Jazz types in the lock sequence and the drawer opens to reveal a credit stick with the amount of the stores profit. 

“Is that all?” the mech asks, growling a little and tightening his hold on the noble. 

“I’m sorry, it automatically takes out our taxes and the payment to the loan,” Jazz frowns as he holds out the credit stick. He holds out his other servo for Mirage. The mech growls, smelting pit red optics burn bright as he shoves Mirage toward Jazz. As the mech starts to leave, Mirage growls and puts Jazz behind him. 

“How dare you come in here!” Mirage yells, pointing at the black and red mech. 

“Raj,” Jazz says holding the blue and white mech’s arm. 

“Excuse me?” the black and red mech asks turning back to face them. 

“I said, how dare you come in here and hold us up, hold up a sparked mech,” Mirage growls. The red and black mech flinches slightly, doorwings drooping. Jazz feels Mirage’s field full of anger, but he notices the Praxian’s doorwings. They are downcast in a show of grief. 

"Which one of you is sparked?" the mech asks, gun faltering where he points it towards them. 

“The mech you stole all the credits from,” Mirage says and the mech’s doorwings perk up and those red optics glance at him. For a split moment he sees a mech, not just a robber, a mech who has a bondmate and sparkling. 

“You don’t understand, I have to do this,” the mech says before running through the door and disappearing down the street. Jazz shakes, from pede to helm and collapses against Mirage. The sparklet shudders against his spark and Mirage wraps his arms around him. 

“Prowl will be here in a few pulses, if anyone can catch the mech it’s Prowl,” Mirage smiles and cups Jazz’s faceplates.

Jazz continues to sit on the floor when Prowl unlocks the door.”Jazz?”

“Here,” Jazz calls from his spot, frame still shivering and thermoblanket draped over his shoulders. He glances up when Prowl walks around the counter, the Enforcer immediately falls to his knees in front of him. 

“What happened?” Prowl asks moving the blanket to check over his frame. Jazz smiles a little at his bonded’s concern. He glances up at the ice blue optics, the intensity so much like the other mechs. He shudders as Prowl pulls him close. 

“Some mech . . . came in with . . . with a gun,” Jazz’s vents whine and he buries his face into Prowl’s chest. “He took everything.”

“He didn’t take your spark,” Prowl pulls up his chin. “Credits can be replaced. You can’t be. What did this mech look like?”

“He was mainly red . . . and black,” Jazz wraps his arms around Prowl’s waist. 

“What city-state frame?”

“Praxian,” Jazz glances at Prowl’s wings, the small flutters quit and the panels fall down along his back. 

“What color was his chevron?” Prowl asks, Jazz glances up at Prowl’s red one. He frowns as he tries to remember. It wasn’t red, it was . . . blue like Prowl’s optics. 

“Ice blue, like your optics,” Jazz says glancing away. “He had red optics. It kinda . . . kinda looked like you.”

“Praxians do look similar, Jazz, I would never put you in harms way,” Prowl pulls him on his lap. Jazz nods as he snuggles up to his bonded. He frowns slightly when he realizes that the bond is somewhat dampened. 

“Why is the bond dampened?” Prowl tenses under him and he steals a glance up at the Praxian. 

“I was called in early and given a case, it was classified,” Prowl presses a kiss to his helm. Jazz hums, glancing up when Mirage steps around the counter. 

“Oh,” Jazz says, something in his spark holds a little bit of doubt still, or is that just the sparklet fluttering?

“Maybe you should go back home, I have the shop covered,” Mirage kneels beside them. Prowl glances down at him. He glances around the store for a pulse before shaking his helm. 

“I’m alright,” Jazz nods and they stand, he keeps the thermoblanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“I need to get back to the precinct,” Prowl says, slipping out of his hold. He sighs quietly as he watches the Enforcer walk away. Mirage locks the door behind Prowl. Jazz turns to lock the door as the end of the orn comes, happy that the rest of the orn was uneventful. He declines the need for Mirage to escort him home. Typing in the key code to their home, Jazz enters in the dark main room. Flickering light comes from the kitchen and he steps into the kitchen to see a table with an Energon candle lit in the center. He smiles as he turns to find Prowl. 

He walks into the dim berthroom, flicking on the light, it comes on it’s dimmest settings. There, on their berth, sits the black and red mech from earlier. He screams and jumps back the mech frowns.

“Jazz,” the mech says in the low voice, it chills his Energon in his fuel lines. The mech continues to frown as he gets off the berth. He backs away to the wall. 

“I’m going to call the Enforcers, what did you do to Prowl?” Jazz asks grabbing a crystal figurine from the shelf. It is one of the sturdier ones. The mech flinches and stops moving toward him. 

"Jazz, I'm sorry, this was probably the worst idea ever of a way to tell you,” the mech says, doorwings dropping low on his back. “I thought if I showed you then you would believe it.”

“Where is Prowl?” Jazz growls, holding the crystal figurine up. 

“Jazz, I am Prowl,” the mech says, voice morphing into Prowl’s voice and he flinches away slightly. How dare this mech use Prowl’s voice. The mech’s red servos move up to his black chest and touches the center of it. The black and red paint disappears from the mech’s frame to show Prowl. “What ever you do next, I probably deserve it.”

“I don’t believe it,” Jazz frowns. 

“I was concerned about you when you never locked your door before you open, I voiced my concerns to my captain and he put a task force together, I asked that I take your store. The gun was never real, only the hologram. Jazz, that mech does not exist as far as I know and as far as the Enforcer database of criminals is concerned.”

“So, you’re really Prowl?” Jazz bites his bottom lipplate. Prowl nods and steps closer. 

“Before your doubts come, yes, I want our sparkling,” Prowl smiles and kisses Jazz as he pulls him close.

 

Meanwhile, on the other side of Praxus, a red and black mech, with smelting pit red optics and an ice blue chevron and tattered doorwings with long gaches in them, walks into a dimly lit room. He smiles as he comes up to a crate. The mews of small cyberkittens fill the room and he smirks. 

“How are my little victims?” the mech asks in a low voice that chills Energon in fuel lines. He picks up the crate of chirping and chittering . . . 

Glitch mice for his one vorn old cyberkittens.


End file.
